


To Catch a Jedi

by GarbonzoBean66



Series: SWTOR: Hiatus FICS. (might be changed, or deleted later) [2]
Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Canon Divergence, Fluff, How To Write, I cannot even tag, Multiple Arcs, OTP: Meaning Of Life, Part one of a slow burn romance, Romance, Slow Burn, Smut, Spoilers, Star Wars: The Old Republic Spoilers, The stuff my brain makes me write cause it wont shut up, how to tag, how to words, swtor spoilers, you get the gist
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-13
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2019-11-17 16:56:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18102632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GarbonzoBean66/pseuds/GarbonzoBean66
Summary: The Sith Emperor has been defeated and while many praise this a monumental victory, the Jedi whose hand dealt the killing blow, has disappeared. Haunted by scars and choices, some of which are not her own, Jaydzia Rand, leaves the Jedi Order in the dark of night. For the last year and a half since the Emperor was defeated, the Empire still fights on, still poses a deadly threat to the Republic and the rest of the galaxy. Intelligence both stolen and gleaned, warn of something on the horizon, a possible successor to the previous Emperor. The Force warns the Jedi of impending disaster, with only more darkness on the way. With their Battlemaster having vanished, the Jedi and the SIS dispatch an agent to bring their hero home, for the galaxy is once again at stake.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is but the first part of a multipart series for my Jk/Theron OTP. There still some good fluff, don't get me wrong. XD

_(Days after the Emperor’s death and the Republic award Ceremony)_

“You can’t be serious?” Kira Carsen asked in disbelief as she watched her best friend and former master proceed to fold and pack up the few articles of clothing available from the wardrobe. Tunics, pants, boots all common looking, nothing like the robes most Jedi wore. In fact, the woman she was watching was dressed in civilian looking attire of dark brown and black, a pair of near-knee-high boots, dark colored form-fitting pants and a black ribbed jacket over a simple tunic. Not the ensemble of a Jedi and certainly not the ensemble of the Hero of Tython, the Jedi who had just been rewarded for defeating the Sith Emperor. The only things about Jaydzia Rand that was the same were her vibrant green eyes and her crimson-colored hair worn loosely about her shoulders.

“I am very serious, Kira,” Jaydzia said calmly, as she turned back to the wardrobe. Her gaze took in the last remaining articles of clothing. All the remained were her Jedi robes. She wouldn’t be taking those with her.

“Jaydzia, have you thought about this?” Kira asked again. This couldn’t be real. Surely, Jaydzia was pulling some elaborate prank on her, to get even for all the sarcastic jokes. “Do you realize what you’re saying?”

Jaydzia gave a sigh and turned toward Kira. The face Kira studied was a composed mask of calm but those green eyes glittered with a sheen of unshed tears and Kira knew then that none of this was a joke. Her best friend was leaving. Kira felt a rush of emotion wash over her as tears stung her eyes and a painful ache settled itself in her chest.

“Kira,” Jaydzia said in the same calm voice that Kira had heard so many times before in times when Jaydzia had comforted her, been a rock for her to hold on to when her own future had been so unclear. The same voice Jaydzia had used before counsel as she’d defended her padawan. The same tone of voice now made Kira want to lash out and scream but she didn’t. She blinked back the tears and waited.

“Kira, I’m leaving the Order,” Jaydzia said. “This isn’t a decision made lightly and its been something I’ve been thinking over, meditating over for quite a while now. This is best for everyone.”

“So, you’re just going to abandon us?” Kira blurted out angrily before catching herself. She saw the flash of hurt cross Jaydzia’s face as the other women grimaced then shook her head.

“No, Kira, I’m not abandoning you,” Jaydzia said, “I’m leaving the Order, I’m not leaving your life. You’ll always be able to contact me if you need to. About anything.”

Kira shook her head, trying to control her flaring emotions. She turned away from her best friend and stared out the view-port of the Defender. The stars of light-speed streaked by. Taking a deep breath, she steadied herself and inhaled once more before turning back around. Her gaze, tear-filled, met Jaydzia’s squarely.

“Why?” Kira asked on a shaky whisper. “If this is for real, at least tell me why?”

Jaydzia frowned at the question and was silent for a long moment before turning away, “There’s more than one reason…but suffice it to say, I’m not fit to be a Jedi. I never really have been.”

Kira stared at her incredulously, “Are you serious? How in the Force can you even think that?”

“It’s the truth, Kira,” Jaydzia replied, once again in that calm tone of hers. Frustration mounted in Kira.

“No, it’s not,” Kira said with a shake of her head. “You’ve saved the galaxy more than once. You’ve fought for the Republic, saved countless millions of lives….You defeated the Emperor for the greater good of the galaxy! If anyone deserves to be called a Jedi, it’s you!”

“No, Kira,” Jaydzia said, her voice turning sad. “I didn’t defeat the Emperor for the greater good of the galaxy…I killed him out of anger and vengeance.”

Kira opened her mouth to continue but the last words caught her like a slap in the face. She stared at Jaydzia, watching a tear fall over her cheek.

“That…thing,” Jaydzia continued as she sank onto her bed, looking down at her hands. “The things he made me do when I was his…thrall. I can’t shake them. The memories are as clear as day, that so blasted vivid that it’s like watching a vid, over and over again.”

“But that wasn’t you,” Kira murmured. “That was the Emperor controlling you. I know what that's like…”

“I know you do,” Jaydzia nodded, her gaze still focused on her hands. “And I know, in my head, that it wasn’t really me… and yet it was. I thought I could get past it, the Force heals, it provides and all that.” She fell silent for a moment before continuing on. “But being face to face with the Emperor again…I felt nothing but anger, shame…” Her voice trailed off with a slight tremble.

“But you did overcome it, Jaydzia,” Kira prompted. “You won.”

Jaydzia shook her head, “No…I didn’t.” She took a breath and looked up from her hands. The gaze that met Kira’s was one of haunted anguish. “I didn’t win, he did. He knew things, Kira. About me, about my past that I’ve never told anyone… He brought every single horrid memory to the surface, ripped open old wounds that I thought were healed… The light didn’t guide my actions then. I struck him down out of pain, suffering…anger. That's not what the Jedi are supposed to do.”

“Surely, that can be forgiven…He was the Sith Emperor-”

Jaydzia shook her head again, “I don’t think so, Kira. I’ve fallen from grace before. What he made do was under his control…When I struck the Emperor down, I was in full control. That…and that alone makes all difference.”

Kira was at a loss for words. That was always Jaydzia’s thing, saying the right thing. She sat next to Jaydzia on the bed.

“I know you, Jaydzia,” Kira said. “And…whatever happened in with Emperor…You’re still a Jedi.”

Jaydzia looked at her, “I appreciate the sentiment, Kira, but it’s still time for me to go. You’ll be just fine without me.”

“No one else is going to get my jokes,” Kira said. “But…if this is really what you want?”

Jaydzia nodded, “It is, Kira. I’m going home, to my family. That's where I belong.”

Later that night, Kira tossed and turned for hours before she was finally able to fall asleep. When she awoke, the atmosphere of the ship felt different. With a jolt, she jumped out of bed and went through every compartment in the ship.

Jaydzia was gone.


	2. Mission Briefing, Unusual

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theron Shan gets an unusual mission briefing in an unusual place...to find an unusual Jedi.

Theron Shan, an agent of the Republic Strategic Information Service, sat casually with his leg propped up at the ankle on his left knee in a shadowed corner-booth of the Cantina on Carrick Station. He took a sip of his whiskey as his hazel-golden eyes scanned the area around him. Patrons from all walks of life milled about the bar and various booths. A few meandered from the bar and the stairs up towards the next level of the station’s inner ring. A pair of drunken idiots at the bar puffed up at one another before the bartender angrily waved them off. An argument in Huttese sounded from a booth nearby, the married Twi’Lek couple were cursing at one other. Sounds of conversation drifted the through the station, adding to the melting pot atmosphere of the place. All in all it was a normal evening on the Republic fleet.

What was not normal was known only to Theron. This meeting place was not on the normal list for his boss, the Director of SIS and certainly not normal for mission briefings. Those were almost always held in the Director’s secured office in SIS headquarters back on Coruscant. Usually the only exception to that was a matter of time and necessity and even then those particular briefings were held over secure comm-lines via Theron’s own personal shuttle.

He couldn’t really imagine what type of mission could have Marcus making a special trip out to the Republic fleet, then again, it could be a matter of convenience for his boss. Marcus didn’t really live in his office, supposedly. Either way, Theron’s curiosity was piqued and he was a bit impatient to find out what was going on.

“Theron,” came the voice of Marcus Trant from Theron’s right. Theron made to stand up as his boss approached but Marcus waved his hand, indicating for him to remain seated as the older man took a seat at the booth, opposite Theron.

“Boss,” Theron said with a nod.

“Just Marcus out here,” The Director cautioned. “Got a mission…”

“You said as much over the holo,” Theron pointed out.

“You’ll have as just enough time to grab some supplies and fuel up your shuttle here before you need to head out,” Marcus went on as he glanced around them. “Time is imperative.”

“All right,” Theron said, setting his glass down. “Give me the details.”

“In short, you’re locating a target and bringing her in,” Marcus said, dropping his voice to a low whisper.

“Her?” Theron asked, brows raised.

“Yes,” Marcus nodded and pulled a powered off datapad from the inner pocket of his dark blazer. “And this is her dossier.” He slid the datapad across the table. “Your eyes only, don’t turn it on until you’re secured on your shuttle. It’s encrypted.”

Theron frowned. It seemed to him that Marcus was being unusually paranoid. A public meeting place, an encrypted datapad…

“If there’s all this secrecy, why are we doing this here on the Fleet and not in your very secured office?” Theron asked as he pocketed the powered-down datapad.

“Means of alibi,” Marcus said cryptically. “And because of timing. All the details of the op are on that datapad but suffice it to say, your target isn’t an easy woman to find.”

Theron arched an eyebrow, “Don’t we have a…uh contractor of sorts whose more…uh qualified to locate people? Big burly Chiss man, always looks like a statue? Never smiles, never says more than maybe one word at a time?”

Marcus shook his head, “Not for this one. Conflict of interests and he’s not currently available anyway.”

Theron’s curiosity was increasing with every word of this conversation, as sparse as it was with information. Still, he wanted a bit more information from the Director. There was only so much a person could glean from text on a datapad.

“So,” Theron started. “What’s the catch?”

“She’s a Jedi.”

“A Jedi?” Theron echoed in surprise. His curiosity started to take a nosedive. “Is there a reason the Jedi aren’t going after her themselves? They usually take care of their own.”

“The Jedi are the ones who want her brought in,” Marcus replied. “They’ve attempted to bring her back but…she’s as elusive as they come apparently.”

That threw him for a loop. A Jedi that even the Jedi Order couldn’t find? His curiosity was piqued once more and he couldn’t help but wonder what this Jedi had done to warrant being chased after like this…or what she was hiding from. He arched an eyebrow at Marcus in silent inquiry.

“It’s in the datapad, Theron,” Marcus shook his head, catching the look. “None of this is to get out. Locate her and do whatever you can to get her to come willingly.”

“And if she isn’t willing?” Theron asked, not relishing the idea of subduing a Jedi. “Jedi aren’t exactly your run-of-the-mill fugitives.”

“Get creative, Theron,” Marcus said, though he looked like the words made him want to hit nearest rest room. “I know, those aren’t exactly words I like to give you but the Jedi want her back, period.” He started to rise from his seat. “You’ve got an hour, maybe two to get what you need here, then you need to haul jets to Taris.”

Theron nodded as Marcus bid him good look. He waited casually at the booth, taking the last swig of his whiskey as Marcus made his way through the crowd and out of Theron’s eye-sight. Itching to get to his ship and open the datapad, Theron stood and made his way through to station buying a few supplies he knew he needed a few more.

Before long, he was on his shuttle as it was being topped off. Sitting in the pilot’s seat he pulled the datapad from his jacket pocket and powered it on.

“Let’s see who you really are, Miss Jedi,” Theron murmured as he set about decrypting the pad. The decryption was still going when he got the good to go from the Station. Putting in the coordinates for Taris, he put the shuttle into Hyperspace and returned to the datapad just in time for his implants to beep softly at him, signaling the datapad was finally decrypted.

Leaning back in his seat, he was taken aback by the holopicture of his target. Dressed in nondescript Jedi Robes, she was still stunning. Long auburn red hair was pulled up and away from her face in a bun, two scars stood out on in a criss-cross fashion on her face. On the right side of her face one scar stretched down from her forehead to nearly rest on her chin while the other crossed from her right cheek and across her nose. The expression was neutral and so Jedi like that he wasn’t at all surprised.

He started reading the dossier and was surprised to find that the Jedi was he being sent to bring in wasn’t just any Jedi, but the same one who had defeated the Emperor a year prior. The Hero of Tython was among the few Jedi whose fame spread throughout the galaxy. He frowned as he read. She’d been brought into the Jedi at an unusual age and her record wasn’t as spotless as one would think. Reprimands for teenage antics had been issued with one involving sneaking alcohol into the Jedi Archives for the purpose of throwing a little party with the other padawans. Theron snorted, unable to imagine a bunch of prim and proper younglings partying it up in a dusty old library. Once she’d made it to her final trials, however, this young Jedi was supposedly a model student and served as a Jedi for roughly three to four years.

He frowned, reaching a portion of her dossier that was completely redacted. Six to eight months of time a few years ago was simply gone from the file. She’d been an a mission though the information on that mission had been redacted as well, no doubt the Jedi Order had taken great pains to make sure it wasn’t on this datapad. There wasn’t even a hint that he could find. It was as if, she simply didn’t exist for six to eight months.

Scrolling through, he read the rest of the dossier. She’d fought on various worlds on behalf of the Jedi and the Republic, even commanding the Jedi on the planet of Corellia. If Jedi wore medals, she’d probably be covered in the things. Her final mission, at least officially, had been the assault of Drommund Kaas, where she’d faced off with the Emperor of the Sith and, well, won.

Then she’d disappeared just days later. There had been sightings of her in a few sectors in the last year but for all intents and purposes, the Hero of Tython was missing.

“No wonder the Jedi don’t want this known to the public,” Theron murmured. “If their war-hero was known to be missing, the media would be all over that.”

He sighed, scrolling through the rest of the information on the datapad. There was every possibility that this was going to be a wild goose chase and he had a few theories as to why a Jedi would want to disappear. He wasn’t exactly a fan of the Order, he’d trained and Master Ngani Zho had been like a father to him. But why would a Jedi not want to be found?

According to the information on the datapad, the Jedi wanted her to help them with mounting tensions on the planet Illum. The Sith Empire was throwing a lot at Illum and the Republic, along with the Jedi were loosing ground.

He set the datapad down on his lap and looked out the viewport, watching but not seeing lightspeed streak by. Several different scenarios and reasons ran through his mind, it was highly possible she had a bounty on her head, she had killed the Emperor if the reports were true then again, it was also possible, she wanted nothing to do with any of it. War took a toll on people, even Jedi.

“War’s not over yet, Miss Jedi,” Theron said aloud to the stars.


	3. Alias

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaydzia lands on Taris to deliver supplies to the Republic troops, meanwhile her father, Ritocas, takes on a covert mission of his own in locating and extracting a fugitive for SIS interests. Using her alias, Jaydzia takes to the cantina where she meets a few members of Havoc Squad.

“You sure about this, angel face?” Paiiri’toca’sabosen said to the young woman sitting in his ship’s co-pilot seat next to him. The large Chiss glanced sidelong at the profile of his adopted daughter. Crimson-gold hair tumbled down her shoulders and down her back as she turned her head, green eyes sparkling in wry amusement at him.

  
“That can’t be a serious question, Papa,” Jaydzia Rand asked before her gaze flicked away to the navigational controls under her fingertips.

  
An amused smile twitched at his lips as he focused his own attention on piloting the ship down towards the ruined planet of Taris. “It’s a legitimate question.” He quipped after a moment.

  
“But not a serious one,” She shot back with a chuckle.

  
“Beginning descent,” Ritocas said, flipping switches and guiding the ship’s throttle.

  
A few minutes later, they had touched down in the battered and yet still mysteriously functional spaceport that now made up good portion of what remained of the Republic Base on Taris. Ritocas watched his daughter from his peripherals as he went through a sequence of locking the pilot and navigation terminals. She was looking out the view-port at the hangar bay. Her eyes taking on a distant look as if memories from another time were calling to her. Done with his flipping of switches and keying in codes, he turned his full gaze to her and studied her profile.

  
Nearly six years ago, Jaydzia had been given the choice to train with the Jedi Order. He’d had his misgivings when Vaynala had first mentioned it. He’d almost flat out refused, given what he’d learned about the Jedi over his years. They taught that attachment was a path to the Dark Side…supposedly what they believed the Sith were. He’d been around more than enough Sith to know there was definite evil in the galaxy. He didn’t, however, believe that a sense of Family, a support system of compassion and honor had anything to do with one’s fall towards evil. In fact, he’d come to believe that without such a foundation, one couldn’t find anything to prevent a fall into evil. Force sensitivity was shunned in the Ascendancy, and while he’d grown up with his people’s strictures ingrained, he’d come to view those strictures as prejudice. Those perceptions he’d once had were changed by the way of a Jedi, the very same one who would later become his wife and the only bounty he’d never collected. His Chiss family had not understood, of course, and so he’d been exiled but he had never regretted his decision, especially a few years later, when he’d found and adopted the young woman sitting in his co-pilot’s seat and his white-haired Mirialan son.

  
He frowned, noticing the sadness that touched her eyes. The Jedi preached more against family than he’d cared for but Vaynala had been correct in that some paths were meant for one to walk alone. Ritocas worried that the path their daughter had walked, had been too much. He worried, even now, that perhaps he hadn’t done his job to prepare her, to give her the sturdy foundation of family she needed to walk such a path. Five years ago, she’d left for the Order, eager to make them proud, determined to defend the Republic and it’s citizens. Jaydzia had been bright eyed and pure. Five years later, she’d returned, her passionate spirit subdued, her honor uncertain and the light in her eyes, once vibrant, now more akin to fading embers. He could see that Jaydzia held wounds that had yet to heal and he couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps, she was afraid to face them.

  
Jaydzia was gazing out of the veiwport noting that the hangar bay was… different than the last time she had passed through here. A few years ago, the hangar had been dusty but brightly lit. Now it was dingy and gloomy with piles of rubble in the far corners that had yet to be cleared away. The lights flickered overhead and some were simply no longer functioning. It was a true projection of the loss of life and territory during the Empire’s resurgence when the cold war finally broke out into all out war.

  
Ghosts rose a the edge of her mind, threatening to push the memories of her old life with the Jedi to the fore. She resisted. There was no use in reliving what she had last done on Taris, chasing Watcher One through the ruins to save Doctor Godera…

  
“Jaydzia,” her father’s calm, low voice broke through her thoughts. She blinked and looked up at the large Chiss who was her father, standing up from his seat. His features, while usually set in an impassive mask, were soft and fatherly concern glowed in his red-eyes.  
With a shake of her head to send the old memories back to the edges of her mind, she gave him a smile and stood up from her own seat. “Ready to go, Papa?” She asked, hoping her voice didn’t sound too eager.

  
Ritocas studied her for a moment, that fatherly concern remaining. She busied herself with checking the blasters in her belt holsters. Her father knew the vast majority of what she’d done while in the Jedi Order but there were still parts she had yet to divulge but while she knew he, her mother and even her brother, Seth, wanted to know never had any of them pressured her. Papa had once told her that when she was ready to face it, he would be there, ready to help her. He’d stressed that she didn’t have to do so, alone.

  
“Let’s get a move on, then,” He said finally, his voice going from soft to his regular gravelly tones. He nodded his head towards the exit of the cockpit, gesturing for her to take the lead. She shot him a smile, hoping to convey assurance she was fine and walked out of the cockpit.

  
Her father had opted to use her ship for the deliveries versus his own due to her cargo compartments being more suited for actual cargo then his own ship was. Moving quickly through the outer circular ring towards the exit hatch, they met up with her father’s small but unusually tough astromech droid, MR-M4. His outer casing was covered in blue and so, she’d coined the name “Blue” when she’d been very young. It had stuck ever since, even for Ritocas.

  
“Ready, Blue?” Ritocas asked. The astromech beeped an affirmative and they exited the ship.

  
This run to Taris was a bit different than normal. Usually, Seth took this job and delivered supplies to the Republic troops before returning with anything the Republic wanted back from the planet that wasn’t necessarily under Military purview. The return cargo usually involved various types of artifacts found in the ruins of the planet. While the job itself was pretty much the same this time, there was an additional mission to be completed that had nothing to do with deliveries. Her father had a mission of his own, part of his contractor work with the Republic SIS. He would use his skills to locate and bring in a fugitive, supposedly hiding in the ancient toxic ruins of Taris. Using their usual supply run as a cover, she was taking the lead on the cargo while he was going into the ruins. Their Republic contacts here would be none the wiser which was as it should be. Papa’s contract was sanctioned but at a level requiring discretion.

  
In the hangar bay, they were met by their Republic contact, a Lieutenant of the Republic. After introducing herself, via her alias, Jay Sabosen, Jaydzia took the lead in the paperwork and discussions regarding the cargo and the payment. All in all, the whole next two-to-three hours went off without a hitch. As far as clients went, the legitimate contracts her father’s firm, Rand, Incorporated had with the Republic, were the easiest to maintain. Bringing supplies and whatnot to the Republic troops were the swiftest and most organized jobs. This was no different.

  
It would be another few hours before the Republic personnel would be able to get the return cargo ready to load on her ship, as per usual and regulation and all that. She and Ritocas took their leave of the hangar and headed towards the cantina located on the base. As they approached the rough looking building, Jaydzia became aware of a strange sensation running up her spine. It felt as if eyes were on her, watching, waiting. She frowned momentarily but kept her pace.

  
It wasn’t an uncommon feeling, in fact, she sometimes used it to her advantage but this was…different. As if someone wasn’t just watching something they found interesting but as if someone was specifically searching and watching her. Taris wasn’t a pleasure planet nor was it a well organized machine. It was a three-hundred year-old ruin filled with pain and hunger-filled rakghouls. Republic base or not, it was wise to keep one’s wits about them.

  
Entering the cantina, the feeling of being watched vanished and she gave a small but involuntary sigh. Ritocas caught it and glanced at her as they entered the main bar proper.

“What is it?” He asked quietly, his low voice barely above a whisper as he scanned the room.

  
“I felt like we were being watched when we were outside just now,” She whispered back.

  
“Hmm,” was all the reply her father gave her as they reached the bar. They ordered their beverages and settled on the stools. Ritocas would make his way out soon enough and she would remain until he either finished the job or called for her.

  
Fifteen minutes later, a small group of three Republic troopers entered the cantina; two Cathar, a female and male and one human female. All of them looked haggard. She could sense varying degrees of fatigue, frustration and touches of fear as they approached the bar. Whatever they’d been doing, had been intense for them. She carefully watched them while keeping her face averted slightly.

  
When they got closer, Jaydzia allowed her gaze to take in their armor. It seemed of high quality, better quality than several of the troops she’d come passed in the hangar. Then she noticed the red insignia they all shared on their chest plating. Havoc Squad, she thought with interest as she sipped the whiskey she’d ordered. One of the most elite special forces squadron in the Republic military and probably the most famous.

  
“That was a whole blasted mess.” The male Cathar, a Captain judging by the strips on his armor, muttered in a growl when the group had reached the bar. “Intel dropped the ball, again.” A few stools away from Jaydzia, he dropped his helmet on the counter and leaned heavily against it before running a hand over his tawny-furred face and head. The two females reached the counter at the same time as him and took a stool on either side of their male counterpart.

  
The female Cathar, effectively the closest to Jaydzia, sighed and shook her head, the motion causing the few tendrils of black hair that had escaped an otherwise perfect bun to swing slightly. She sported an old scar along her cream-furred cheek. The stripes on her armor signified a Major and therefore probably the commander of the squad.

  
“The intel wasn’t bad, sir,” came the voice of the human female. Jaydzia noted the imperial accent with a slight frown that she hid behind her glass. Her Kassian tones were elegant and evidence enough that she had clearly defected from the Empire. Still, the accent had caught her off guard and she had to turn her face away, shifting slightly in her seat to cover up her movement as if she was simply attempting to find more comfort on the not-so-comfortable stool. There was no sense of deception or anything more than fatigue and a sort of camaraderie she obviously shared with her Havoc squad colleagues but the accent itself conjured images of a time she’d much rather banish from her memory all together. Taking a steadying sip of her whiskey, Jaydzia reigned in her emotions, wrenching herself back from the Force. It was much easier to deal with things that reminded her of her Jedi life, if her sensitivity was reigned in, damping her connection.

  
“Oh, the intel wasn’t complete,” The male Cathar counted. “Therefore it was bad. We had no idea what we were walking into.”  
“It wasn’t complete, true,” the human female responded. “But we were told that we’d be going in blind given the lack of intel on the inside of that base.”

  
“Alright, cool it,” The female Cathar said with a sigh. “We got the mission done and got out alive, intel or no.”

  
“You could have been killed,” The male said, there was an interesting softness to his voice as he spoke to the female Cathar. From the corner of her vision, Jaydzia saw him turned fully towards the Major, his head tilted down towards her. She was distracted then by a light touch at her elbow. Turning her head, she saw her father standing up. He glanced at her and nodded. His face was an impassive mask, his red-eyed gaze met hers briefly. She nodded back as he turned and left the bar.

  
She returned to her whiskey pulling a non-chalant mask over her face to hide the worry that was trying to rise in her. Her father was a professional, he would be more than fine. This wasn’t his first contract and it wouldn’t be the last. She leaned against the bar with a sigh and glanced around the sparsely populated Cantina. There were only a few other people all sitting alone and concentrating on their drinks in front of them.

  
“We’re officially off duty for a couple of days,” the female Cathar said, drawing Jaydzia’s attention back to the three Havoc squad members. “So, drinks are on me and then we can try and relax on this miserable planet.”

  
“I’ll pass on the drinks, sir,” the human female said. “I would prefer to get the datawork finished before I turn in for the evening.”  
“Elara,” the Major said, her tone soft but amused. “The datawork will still be there tomorrow.”

  
“I know, Major,” Elara said with a nod, standing up from her stool. “All the same, I would rather enjoy my time off with something other than datawork.”

  
The Major nodded, “Can’t argue with that. Alright, have fun.” Elara only nodded again as she turned from the bar and left. The male waited until she left before turning his attention back on the Major, his head moved closer to the Major. Jaydzia barely made out a whispering sound that eventually caused a giggle to erupt from the Major.

  
“Aric,” breathed the female Cathar. “We’re in public.”

  
“Not _here_ ,” Aric said with amusement.

 

“Not now,” the Major admonished, a playful lilt to her voice.

  
Jaydzia studiously wrenched her attention from them to her whiskey, feeling a slight blush grace her cheeks. It wasn’t that she’d been trying to eavesdrop, but there wasn’t much else to hear in the cantina. The music playing through the speakers wasn’t quite loud enough to decipher and therefore focus on. She was about to get up and move to a booth with the intention of giving the two Cathar a bit more privacy for their obviously private conversation when the female turned to her.

  
“What’s on the menu?” She asked. “It’s been a while since we were here last.”

  
Jaydzia’s emerald-green eyes met the large pale green of the Cathar’s. They were kind, like the small polite smile that curved the Cathar’s lips. Jaydzia smiled back and lifted her whiskey, “Got a few ales, spacer juice and a very good Corellian whiskey. Think they might have some type of rodian sandwhich? But I’ve never been adventurous enough to try it.”

  
The Major laughed, “I had one once, unintentionally. Didn’t know what it was. Didn’t want to know and would never try it again.” She offered glove-covered hand towards Jaydzia. “I’m Kazleea. The grumpy man behind me is Aric Jorgan.”

  
Jaydzia grasped her hand and gave it a firm shake as she gave a nod to Aric who only nodded back, his eyes turning to scanning the Cantina. “Name’s Jay,” Jaydzia said, using her alias.

  
Before long, Jaydzia and Kazleea were in the middle of conversation, discussing Taris, whiskey and holo-novels. Apparently, even Havoc squad commanders needed a trashy holo-novel every now and then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kazleea is my canon Trooper for my Rand legacy verse. She's a fun toon to play and write.


	4. Target Acquired

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theron lands on Taris and quickly finds a certain Jedi he's after. But when she receives a call and dashes out of the Cantina, Theron finds himself chasing her and her stolen speeder.

Landing his shuttle on Taris wasn’t exactly easy and that was expected given the how the planet was contested and the Imperials had gained significant amounts of territory during the war. It was a wonder there was still a Republic presence on the ruined planet. Security of the base and the hangar had been upped incredibly and gave him a bit of an issue but it was resolved with some quick thinking. He strode down the small landing ramp and into the hangar. A brief albeit forced meet and greet with a customs agent occurred before he was exiting the battered spaceport.   
  
Stepping onto the planet felt different than it had years ago when he’d come looking for Master Ngani Zho. The atmosphere felt darker, more solemn and dangerous. The planet was a three-hundred year old tomb and had always had that feel that just stepping on the surface one was committing desecration to the dead but now… The feeling was intensified and held the knowledge that even the base wasn’t one-hundred percent safe.   
  
Ignoring it, Theron moved casually towards the cantina as he scanned the area around him. He saw no sign of anyone other than the patrolling Republic Troopers. Unless, his target had enlisted in the Republic Army, she was no where in sight. The cantina was his best option to either find her or get a few answers to a few carefully worded questions.  
  
The cantina itself mirrored the feel of the planet, dimly lit, a few flickering overhead lights. Just like the hangar, there were only a few people within the main bar proper. His amber gaze drifted over the center bar where he saw three patrons. Two were Cathar and dressed in military armor, though it held different colors than that of the others he’d seen on the base. The third patron, whom the female Cathar was discussing something with, was human. Long wavy red hair on the darker side of crimson rolled about her shoulders and cascaded down the majority of her back. He didn’t get a good look at her face as he casually made his way to a corner booth.  
  
When he was settled in his seat, Theron flagged down a droid to order a whiskey before glancing back at the center bar. The red-haired woman caught his attention again. She nodded towards the Cathar female and stood up, pulling something out of the pocket of her ribbed jacket. Stepping away from the bar, she turned, revealing the holocomm in her hand and the face from the dossier the Director had given him.   
  
That dossier hadn’t done her justice.  
  
Her crimson-red hair framed her face and made the vibrant green of her eyes pop. The graceful lines of her face were angelic, speaking of a beauty that seemed out of this realm. The frown creasing the smooth skin of her brow brought his attention to the criss-crossing scar on her face. Something had caught her pretty damn good. One scar stretched from above her right eyebrow to curve down her cheek and through her upper lip while the other crossed through the first and continued past her nose. Despite the size of the scars, he hadn’t really noticed them at first and even now that he’d had a good look at her, those scars didn’t take away from her natural beauty.   
  
Her holocomm flickered to life, popping up a small figure he couldn’t discern from this distance. He realized he’d been staring and openly at that. All she would have to do was raise her gaze above the holofigure and she’d see him. He averted his gaze, pulling out his own datapad as a cover. He wasn’t quite ready to answer questions nor did he wish to spook her. Chasing his target across Taris was not an idea that he relished.  
  
Whoever she was speaking to vanished and she was turning to the barkeep tossing a couple of credit sticks on the counter before giving a hasty nod at the two Cathar. Theron frowned as he watched her hurry out of the cantina as if she could get out of there fast enough. With a suppressed groan, he counted to fifteen before standing up, tossing a credit stick on the table and casually making his way out of the Cantina.  
  
Chasing the Jedi through the ruins of Taris it is then, he thought as he stepped outside. Pausing, he glanced around, seeking his quarry. She couldn’t have gone that far in fifteen seconds.  
  
 _Ah, there you are,_ he thought catching sigh of red hair heading towards a series of speeders. The distance between her and him was a surprise. Only fifteen seconds and she was almost clear across the base. He frowned and started heading in her direction. She tossed something at the Speeder taxi attendant before hopping onto a rickety looking speeder and took off. Kicking up dirt and debris behind her. Muttering a curse, Theron increased his pace.   
  
When he reached the speeder stall, he tapped his cybernetics. She was already out of sight and out of the base. If he didn’t get some information on that speeder she took, he’d never find her on Taris. The planet was a toxic ruin and not very well mapped out. It was simply all too easy to shake a tail and loose a target. The speeder attendant, however, was more than willing to help Theron locate the “speeder thief!”. Apparently tossing a credit stick at the attendant didn’t count as not stealing, who knew? After a minute or so of listening to the outraged attendant, Theron got the speeder’s identification code and the tracking number of the GPS beacon that was installed.   
  
Perfect, he thought as he got on another speeder. “Mind if I borrow this?” he asked the attendant but instead of waiting for an answer, he kicked on the speeder’s engine and took off out of the base while his implant synced with the new information on his datapad. The attendant could only stare after him with a dumbfounded expression before finally throwing up his hands and walking off, mumbling incoherently to himself.  
  
Theron tapped at his implants again, this time a HUD display was brought up over his vision. An overlay of the mapped out area beyond the base, the main speeder course that would connect the base to its remaining outposts and a winding route that stood out from the rest. The GPS tracking route of the speeder his quarry had ‘borrowed’. Adjusting his grips on the speeder’s handles, he leaned forward and followed the winding red line.  
  
_Not gonna get away from me for long, Miss Jedi,_ He thought.


End file.
